


The Queen’s Glass

by Tritogeneia



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-03-26
Updated: 2003-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-07 01:33:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10349430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tritogeneia/pseuds/Tritogeneia
Summary: SPOILERS : Children of the Gods, Secrets, Forever in a Day, Maternal Instinct, There But For the Grace of God, Point of View, Pretense, The Devil You KnowSUMMARY : When another SG team finds a Quantum Mirror, Daniel Jackson is given a second chance at what turned out to be one of the great tragedies of his life; the love and subsequent loss of his wife, Sha’re.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Yuma, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [Stargatefan.com](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Stargatefan.com). To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [StargateFan Archive Collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/StargateFan_Archive_Collection).

The Queen's Glass

##  The Queen's Glass

##### Written by Melissa Beattie   
Comments? Write to us at [Tritogeneia@aol.com](mailto:Tritogeneia@aol.com)

  * SPOILERS : Children of the Gods, Secrets, Forever in a Day, Maternal Instinct, There But For the Grace of God, Point of View, Pretense, The Devil You Know 
  * SUMMARY : When another SG team finds a Quantum Mirror, Daniel Jackson is given a second chance at what turned out to be one of the great tragedies of his life; the love and subsequent loss of his wife, Sha're. 
  * PG [A] [AU] 



* * *

"A dream itself is but a shadow."

_Hamlet_ , Act II, Scene ii

The dream was gone.

The dream was gone, and she was dead.

She was lying there, unmoving...lying right across from him.

She was.

Not anymore.

The guns had gone silent. So had the staff weapons. So had everything.

The fight was over.

All over.

Teal'c and Kasuf had all ready taken the...body...back to base.

Sam was out tending to the remaining wounded.

And Jack was tending to him.

In thankful silence.

Of course, knowing Jack...he just didn't know what to say.

Just as well.

The silence was better.

He wouldn't have to think then.

But she was dead.

His reason for...everything.

Dead.

Gone.

Never to be seen again.

Except in dreams and nightmares and fading memories....

Just a shadow.

Nothing more.

An arm slipped around his waist, helping to lift him to his feet. Jack again. 

Moving him out of the tent. 

Away from the bloodstained sand that marked where she'd fallen.

Away from the beginning of the end.

Toward the end of the beginning.

He would find the boy, as she'd asked.

He couldn't save her.

He couldn't even fathom why he'd ever thought he could.

He couldn't begin to guess why he was still alive when she...

She was gone.

But he'd find her child.

It was all he had left.

Distantly, he felt Jack leading him away...dimly heard him murmur something about shock. 

Absently, he knew Jack was correct.

But shock was good.

It meant that he wouldn't have to _feel_...

Yet.

Soon...soon he would.

But not now.

Not here.

Not yet.

Later....

But for now, through the shadows of falling night, he let Jack lead him home.

*

"What [a] piece of work is man, how noble in reason, how infinite in faculties, in form and moving how express and admirable, in action how like an angel, in apprehension, how like a god!"

_Hamlet_ , Act II, Scene ii

There was absolutely no reason for him to be there.

Not only was the planet uninhabited, the people long since dead...but he'd all ready found everything he was looking for.

The child was safe, taken by the...Nature spirit to someplace on a higher plane. Skaara was back on Abydos, trying desperately to forget. And Sha're was...

Gone.

So...there was absolutely no reason for him to be here.

And yet...here he was.

On P9X545.

Some dead planet light-years from home.

Wandering absently through an abandoned building.

And why?

He didn't know.

He'd wanted to resign-- thought long and hard about it. Eventually, though, Sha're's wishes that he stay and find the child-- assuming that he _hadn't_ been hallucinating and she _had_ been speaking to him-- had won out.

And her apparent insistence through her father's image that he remain with Jack and his "tribe".

He'd known that the Abydonians would want him to continue. Would want him to keep "protecting" them.

Because, after all, he'd done _such_ a good job of protecting his wife...

Not only couldn't he protect her from the Goa'uld...he couldn't even protect her from himself.

If he hadn't been so stupid as to run in there alone...if he'd been able to get through to her _before_ Amaunet had gotten a grip on him...if...

...if...

...if.

Those two letters were possibly the most painful word in the English language.

And no matter what tongue he tried...the word was always there.

Just like the emptiness.

It was all he could feel anymore....just this icy black chasm that'd swallowed him.

Everything else had been...lost.

Much like what had happened here.

Wherever "here" had been.

Not that he'd ever get the chance to find out.

After all, Jack was ordering them to pack it in. Less than half a day after they'd started.

Yet another aggravation on nerves long since frayed.

The one thing he could still occasionally get lost in...eternally cut short by an organisation that was only interesting in one thing; power.

Weapons.

New ways to kill people...

And yet...he'd stayed.

And would probably still stay.

No moving forward...no moving back...just...staying still.

Maybe, if he stayed still long enough...everything would just pass him by.

Maybe not.

But, even so...he certainly couldn't stay here.

Dead planets just...got him depressed.

He could get enough of that at home.

And so, with a quiet sigh, he advanced toward the now-open Gate, and stepped through.

floating acceleration twisting turning rising falling falling falling _freeze_--

...and he found himself on the usual ramp, in the usual place in the usual room, with the usual soldiers standing down from pointing the usual guns.

General Hammond was even standing in the control room, just like usual.

Except...

Now that he looked carefully...there _was_ something a bit odd...something about the expression on the general's face...determination? Regret?

Dread?

"SG-1," the general began, and it was heavy regret _and_ dread, it was most _definitely_ dread that he was hearing in the other's voice...something else...God, what _else_ could've happened now?

And, speaking of, why couldn't God just leave him alone?

"Report immediately to the Briefing Room."

Oh...it was bad, whatever it was...

...God, but he didn't want to report to the Briefing Room...

And yet, distantly, he felt the sensation of walking...his legs carrying him through corridors and up stairs...the rest of the team just behind...

Too short an eternity later, they'd arrived.

"We've got a problem, people," the general began without preamble, even before they'd finished sitting down. "While SG-4 was on a routine survey of P4Z301..."

...they were killed or went missing. What else was new?

"...they encountered another one of those quantum mirrors."

So...the Goa'uld were attacking again. It figured, Apophis was naturally going to come here and try for them...that had to be it. Just another potential Armageddon...

"They also found this."

And the general switched on a monitor.

And Daniel Jackson's reality shattered around him into a million tiny shards.

For lying in the Infirmary, strapped to a bed...was a ghost.

A beautiful, raven-haired ghost who was...

...very much alive...

But...she couldn't be.

She'd...

...she'd been... 

...she was...

"Sha're?" he whispered, head swimming, mind racing...afraid to believe and just as scared not to...because if it wasn't real, he was insane or hallucinating or asleep, but, if it was real...

...if it _was_ real...

**  
**

God...let this be real...

"General?" he heard Jack ask from far, far away. "_Is_ it her?"

It had to be...

Even if it _was_ just her alternate...even if it _wasn't_ really her...

Even if it was...someone else...inside her...

**  
**

No...no, it couldn't be...God, please...

But he knew it could be.

And when Hammond couldn't meet his eyes, he knew it was.

"Yes and no," the general said quietly, gaze instead focused on the monitor.

Where Sha're's eyes glowed with unholy light.

And the only defence Daniel had was to close his own.

It wasn't even close to enough.

*

"Heaven and Earth, must I remember?"

_Hamlet_ Act I, Scene ii

They'd hurt her.

He didn't know what "they" he'd meant...whether it'd been SG-4, or the doctors or the Goa'uld or even himself, in some other bizarre nightmare reality where he'd been forced to...

...to...

No.

No, not in any reality, no matter what kinds of choices or decisions he'd made along the way...never could he see himself, or any version of himself, being able to hurt her.

He hadn't been able to before.

Back when she'd first...when his version of her, had died.

He'd held a gun...the same old sidearm he'd worn for...God knew how long. He'd held it on her...on her and on her demon and...he hadn't been able to fire. Not even to save himself.

And, if any of the others had been there, too...he didn't know if he could've fired even then.

But then, he hadn't had to.

Teal'c had...

Teal'c had done what he'd had to do.

Just as Daniel did now.

He had to stand in the observation room, silent, and watch his wife be interrogated.

He'd been prepared for this, months...no, over a year ago. He'd been prepared to stay with her, as some "specialist" drained her Goa'uld's memory dry. He'd even been prepared to intervene if whoever it was got too...involved...in the work.

At least, in this case, he didn't have to worry so much about that.

General Hammond had assigned Jack to the job.

It was a small but welcome comfort.

Jack could be unreasonable and he could be dangerous and he could certainly kill...but he wouldn't do anything to Sha're. 

He'd given his word, and that meant something. 

He'd do nothing...unless it was absolutely necessary.

But it wouldn't be.

It wouldn't be.

Sha're had enough control to...stop that.

**  
**

I hope...

Of course, hope was what had gotten him in this mess, hadn't it...

With a heavy sigh, he found himself pressing a hand against his eyes. Assuming this day ever became night, he was going to need one hell of a large bottle of aspirin. At least.

If things went badly...he might need something a bit stronger.

But...things wouldn't go badly.

After all, they all ready had a team on Tolana, negotiating for one of those control collars they'd used to suppress Klorel. Sam was right then sending a signal to the Tok'ra to have one of them extract the Goa'uld. And, if worse came to worse...there was always Thor's Hammer.

So...why did he have the terrible feeling that things were only going to get worse?

Maybe he was just spending too much time with Jack...

Below, a bit of motion caught his attention...and an old phrase came unbidden to mind.

**  
**

Speak the Devil's name...

And though his expression was far from demonic, there was something in the coolness of the colonel's eyes as he entered...something about the deceptively casual way he moved...some indefinable _something_ that he carried that sent an instinctive chill up the archaeologist's spine.

**He will not hurt her,** he reminded himself, watching warily as Jack approached the bed where Sha're lay. **He promised me.**

**  
**

But it was then that he noticed the colonel had not entered alone.

A pace behind, hands clasped out of sight, eyes as hard as stone, was the man who'd been forced to kill his wife.

And as he watched Teal'c take up a post behind and to one side of Jack, something deep within the archaeologist's chest turned to ice.

The first lesson of any social science class: history repeats itself.

But it wouldn't.

It couldn't.

Teal'c would never...not unless he had to...but he hadn't promised, like Jack had...

Stop.

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying madly to get his near-manic thoughts back under some semblance of control. 

Perspective.

He had to get some perspective on all this....

Too bad all the angles were so skewed...

Sighing, he felt himself leaning forward, and wondering just when this nightmare would end.

"What magic is this?!"

Not any time soon, it appeared...

Returning his attention to the infirmary below him, he saw Sha're-- no, _Amaunet_. 

Amaunet was in control. 

Amaunet was the enemy. 

Amaunet was the one straining against her bonds, glaring with glowing eyes in impotent rage at her interrogator and the Jaffa.

Sha're was...the most beautiful sight his heart could imagine, twisted into this terrible mockery of herself.

Again.

It was enough to make him want to lock himself away somewhere and hope it all disappeared...

"You are dead!" she went on, in that horrid parody of a Human voice. "I destroyed you with my own hand."

What?

No...it hadn't been that way...it'd been the other...

...the other way around...

My God...she didn't know she was in another universe...

No one ever did...not till way later when it was too late to just jump back through the looking glass...when you had to go through all kinds of Hell to get home...

"I am not," he distantly heard Teal'c say. "In this place," he went on, "it is _you_ whom _I_ destroyed."

And the knife twisted in a little bit deeper....

Below, oblivious, her eyes flashed white fire. "You lie," she spat, her face twisted into alien rage. "You are not among those who sought to destroy me."

"Oh?" Jack interjected casually, taking a step closer. "Somebody out to get you?"

She merely glared at him, a look the colonel somehow returned unflinchingly.

**Someday,** he thought dimly, **I've gotta get him to teach me that...**

**  
**

After a long moment, Jack spoke again. 

"Who?"

She was silent.

Thunderingly, roaringly silent.

Where the only sounds were the machines, the vents, and his own hammering heart.

Then, she looked up, and spoke.

"He who was your master."

And Daniel blinked.

Jack's "master"? General Hammond, maybe? But that made no sense, especially in past tense...

...unless...

...it hadn't been _Jack_ she'd been talking to...

He looked more closely, and saw that her eyes were indeed, focused on Teal'c.

Which meant only one thing.

"Apophis," he whispered, feeling the lump of ice inside catch fire and burn.

As though that sadistic bastard hadn't done enough to her...as though he'd not violated her body, mind and soul...as though he hadn't taken her life all ready...now he was trying to...trying to...

"...trying to kill you?" Jack was saying, somewhere very far away. "Why?"

Did he really need a reason?

Apophis was a psychopath! If Amaunet had looked at him sideways...

**  
**

But he said he loved her...

So?!

So what?!

Apophis said a lot of things. That didn't make them true.

A creature like that...he wasn't capable of love.

Hate maybe, but...never love.

If he could...that'd make it far too easy to actually feel sorry for him...sympathy... empathy for that bastard who'd lost his own mate because he'd stolen Daniel's own.

That bastard Goa'uld who, even in another Universe was still finding ways to hurt Sha're.

Some things never changed.

Other things changed too much.

Below him was a good example.

Amaunet had stubbornly tightened her jaw...in a way that was so reminiscent of Sha're that it made her husband's heart ache.

It was odd...but he hadn't realised that part of him could hurt anymore than it had before.

No, some things never did change. 

And some fools never learn...

The colonel waited maybe thirty seconds before sighing quietly and moving yet another pace forward. "Come on now," he urged, with just a hint of danger touching his voice. "You don't want me to call Apophis in here and ask him, do you?"

It was a bluff, of course.

But she believed.

For her eyes went wild with heartrending terror...just before she broke one of her bonds.

**  
**

No...

He was on his feet in a heartbeat, watching in horror as she lunged forward, her hand reaching out to try and grab Jack...

...which is when Teal'c fired.

"No!" Daniel heard himself cry, as he watched her fall against the bed in slow motion...

...unmoving...

...oh, God...not again...

**  
**

I can't have lost her again...

"Daniel!"

**  
**

You failed...

"It was a zat blast!" 

What?

Through the window glass, he saw Jack looking right at him, concern lighting his eyes. "It was just a zat blast," the colonel repeated. "She'll be fine."

It was a zat blast?

Oh yes...Teal'c couldn't have concealed a staff weapon behind his back, could he...

"Are you all right?"

No...no, he wasn't...weak knees, racing pulse, dizziness...better sit down before he fell down...no, better leave and not come back until she wakes up....

Better not think about what happened.

He had to remember, but...he just couldn't think.

Not yet.

Maybe, in a little while...maybe after he got some air or got somewhere private...

He barely made it to an empty room before collapsing.

*

"Give me that man that is not passion's slave, and I will wear him in my heart's core..."

_Hamlet_ , Act III Scene ii

The first words out of Jack's mouth were "I'm sorry."

Or, at least, they should've been.

Daniel really had no idea what the colonel said as he'd sat down nearby-- his own thoughts were still too jumbled and twisted and frayed...

It was a long time before he could even acknowledge Jack's presence.

It was even longer before he could accept what it meant.

Or, rather, what the fact that the colonel had come over an hour later meant.

The...interrogation...had gone on.

Without him.

But...he hadn't been able to stay...he'd have...have...

He didn't know _what_ he'd have done...gone insane, maybe...

**  
**

Assuming I'm not there all ready...

"Daniel," he distantly heard Jack say, concern touching his voice. "You all right?"

No.

Not even close.

So far removed from all right that he couldn't even see daylight...

Or maybe, wherever he was...it was just some dark, endless night...in which case, all of this was just a bad dream...

But it wasn't.

He knew that.

He'd given up the luxury of denial long ago.

But even so...he wasn't all right.

But it wasn't the answer anyone wanted to hear.

"Fine," he dimly heard his own voice saying. "I'll be fine."

He couldn't have been less convincing. 

Still, in a surprisingly sensitive move, Jack didn't contradict him.

Instead, the colonel looked away, eyes narrowing in what might've been...pain...

**  
**

Oh God...

Something had happened. Something had happened to her...she was hurt, she was dead...

"We found out some more after you left," Jack began without preamble, still looking down at the floor. 

...she was dying...being killed...it wasn't good....

"It's not good, Daniel."

When was it ever?

When had it ever been?

Had it been good when he'd stayed on Abydos? For awhile, maybe, but then the Goa'uld...

It hadn't been good since that day. 

That one, horrible day on Abydos, when she'd been...taken...

Then it'd only gotten worse.

"Tell me," he heard himself say quietly, all the while knowing that, no matter his worst nightmare...what he was about to be told would be a thousand times harder to bear.

"Apophis..."

...wants her dead. He knew that. Apophis wanted everyone dead. Apophis was a psychopath. They'd been over this...

"...wants revenge."

What?

Revenge?

On who?

**  
**

On me?

"On her," the colonel quietly clarified. "Seems she sold him out to Sokar."

Oh...

It seemed that Amaunet wasn't as fond of Apophis as Apophis claimed to be of her...not that anyone could blame her...

"That's how he wound up Sokar's prisoner," Jack finished, with a slight shrug. 

And once the Tau'ri had finished with him...he'd gone straight to Natu.

And come back.

And caught Sha're and decided to get even with Amaunet...

Guess Apophis didn't think the hosts were so innocent.

Or didn't care.

"She was trying to get to some other Goa'uld's world to find sanctuary."

It used to be you could find sanctuary in a church or temple. That the house of a god would protect you from the evils of the outside world.

Now...the "gods" _were_ the evils...

And anyone entering their houses never came out quite the same...

"That's how she got here. She thought it was a way to escape."

But she was here now.

Here, and safe from Apophis...not safe from Amaunet, but, maybe soon...

...maybe...

He had to talk to her.

He had to see...see how much was left. 

Back on Abydos, right after the child had been born, she'd looked straight at him but prevented the Goa'uld from seeing. 

As Amaunet had held him in her grip, Sha're had come to him, whole and pure and alive...just before she'd...

"I have to see her," he said, feeling himself rise...

...only to be stopped by a firm hand gripping his arm in equal parts compassion and restraint. "I don't think that's such a good idea, Daniel."

What?

Sorry, when exactly had he asked Jack's opinion? Where exactly had the good colonel gotten the idea that it was any of his business? Nowhere.

Because he hadn't asked Jack anything.

He hadn't asked the other to help him or advise him or try and protect him-- not that there was anything that he _needed_ protecting from! This was his _wife_ for God's sake!

"I'm going to see her," he insisted, taking a step toward the door.

Jack's grip didn't waver. "Daniel--"

Oh, no he didn't. 

Condescension was about the _last_ thing Daniel needed.

"This is between me and my wife, Jack." 

"That's what I'm trying to tell you--"

"No!" 

They were _not_ getting into this again. Even if she _was_ possessed by a Goa'uld, Sha're was still in there. 

And even if this wasn't exactly _his_ Sha're...

It didn't matter.

It _didn't_!

"She _is_ my wife, Jack!"

"No, she's your _widow_!"

And Daniel Jackson stared.

He couldn't have...

...that was...wrong...

...wrong...

"You," Jack continued, his words as inexorable as the tide and just as devastating, "_her_ you...is dead."

No...

...no that...that can't be...

"In that universe," the other went on more quietly, "you got into her tent faster and Amaunet..."

The other trailed off, but...he didn't have to finish.

They both all ready knew what'd happened.

What would've happened had Teal'c not...

The hand on his arm tightened supportively. "I'm sorry," Jack said softly, and then said nothing more.

Sorry.

A word meant to convey sympathy...derived from sorrow...a word used out of tradition or embarrassment or casual custom...or an attempt at kindness, like now. By those who couldn't express themselves any other way...who just...didn't know or couldn't say the words...

Maybe later, he'd appreciate it.

But not now.

Now was...nothing.

And the nothing was...way better than the something...

In his world, she was gone.

In her world, he was gone.

And in both...the Goa'uld were to blame.

Sorry.

Sorry was a candle against the darkness of space.

But what else was there to say?

What else wouldn't drive the knife in deeper?

What else wouldn't remind him of...failing her?

Of watching Teal'c...

Teal'c had said he was sorry.

Then he'd said he'd do it again, to save Daniel's life.

Sorry.

Daniel had even said that to the Jaffa, a lifetime ago...when they'd found Sha're on Abydos...safe and sound and...pregnant...

He'd eventually convinced the young archaeologist that it'd be better for all concerned to bring Sha're, the boy, and her Goa'uld captor back to Earth for...study.

Guess he got his wish....

Sorry.

Jack had said he was sorry, too. 

After he'd explained to the colonel about the boy...after he'd managed to rise above the shock long enough to hear...and just now.

Sorry.

**  
**

_I'm_ sorry.

"I have to see her."

He couldn't let her go.

Not again...not when he was so close...

Jack was looking at him, watching him with impenetrable eyes...evaluating, measuring...considering...

No passion in those eyes. No emotion. Not now. Only rarely...only when something got through those armoured walls...

"Please, Jack."

If this truly was a second chance...

"I have to."

He had to save her.

For both their sakes.

"Please," he whispered again, and couldn't have said if it was an appeal or a prayer.

For a long moment, there was nothing.

Then, with a quiet sigh, the answer came.

"All right." 

*

"Angels and ministers of grace, defend us!"

_Hamlet_ , Act I, Scene iv

The time had come.

Jack had insisted he wait until the Tolan collar had been put on, insisted he wait until they were sure that the collar would lock out the Goa'uld. 

Then he'd insisted Daniel reconsider.

It'd been a waste of time.

He'd waited...so long...

Everyone always said that they'd waited a day or a month or a year so a few extra minutes didn't matter.

They were wrong.

Even a few seconds mattered.

Here...a few seconds had made all the difference in the universe.

Yet still...he'd had to wait.

And by the time Jack had reluctantly said okay...Daniel Jackson was about ready to jump out of his skin.

How he managed to avoid dashing in at top speed was beyond him.

He'd practically run the colonel over to get inside.

Of course, Jack was still out there, watching like a hawk, no doubt. Hey, this was the military-- privacy meant nothing, right?

It never crossed his mind that the cynicism was his last defence.

Or that it would be the last thought he had for the next several moments.

For the second he caught sight of her, he was captivated.

Those dark eyes...that face, now pale but still...so beautiful...yet still eclipsed by the spirit he'd fallen in love with...

All there.

All back again.

All staring at him with the same wide-eyed...

No.

Not the same.

Something else...something...

Wrong.

Not wrong like possessed wrong, but...wrong...

Her eyes...

Her eyes were full of shock. 

And terror.

In all the time he'd known her...all they'd shared...he'd never, ever, _ever_ seen such fear on her beautiful face.

It was worse than watching Amaunet.

At least then...then, he'd know what she was afraid of.

But now...there was nothing to frighten her now...

Nothing except...

Him.

The walking dead.

To her, at least.

He at least could understand...understood the concept of alternate universes and science and parasites...but she was from a different world.

A world where a tangible false god had reigned for centuries...where technology and science and even writing was forbidden...

She'd thought his pen was magic.

She'd thought the Gate was magic.

But this...this mirror...it may as well have been magic.

And maybe it was.

Dark magic.

The Devil's Work.

Or a demon's work.

Like her.

Like Amaunet.

Like all the Goa'uld...

Like everything.

Sometimes it seemed everything could be blamed on the Goa'uld....

Except this.

This magic wasn't theirs.

It wasn't anyone's, that they knew of.

It was just there.

Just like he was.

Just like she was.

Just like they all were.

But somebody had to say something...

"Sha're," he heard himself begin, from many light years distant. 

And he could say nothing more.

There were a hundred, a thousand, a million things he wanted to tell her...more words than he'd dreamed existed clogged in his throat, preventing even the simplest sound...

And yet...she heard.

And she saw.

And, in seeing...she shrank away.

For a long time he saw her lips move without making a sound.

Then...

"No," she whispered, slowly shaking her head.

She didn't believe what she was seeing...

The irony was enough to make him almost want to laugh...or cry...or go insane....

Any of those options would be welcome, right then...

Too bad he couldn't do any of them.

Too bad he couldn't do anything....

Couldn't even speak to her...couldn't touch her...

"Sha're..." he whispered, more a prayer than any other.

For a long time, he watched her struggle, hearing the breath catch again and again in her throat as she tried to speak, knowing that any move he made would only make things worse.

A thousand still eternities later, she managed to breathe a single word.

One which couldn't have held more darkness and fear had it tried.

A single Name.

"Apophis..."

And the pain of his heart couldn't have been greater had she ripped it from his chest.

She thought he was...an illusion.

Or an hallucination.

Or maybe just a demon, mortal or divine.

And he still couldn't speak...

Couldn't tell her who he was...where she was...couldn't tell her why....

Not that anyone had ever been able to explain "why" to him...

He could only watch, mute and unthinking as her eyes squeezed shut...saw her slim body tense as she rallied her strength, as he'd seen her do a thousand times before...heard her taking deep, tremulous breaths as she tried to calm herself.

And then he couldn't even do that.

All he could do was speak her name in silence one last time before turning his face away and retreating. 

And whether it was for her good or his own he couldn't have said.

He knew only that things were horribly, _horribly_ wrong.

And that nothing mortal might ever put it right.

*

"To die, to sleep-- to sleep, perchance to dream-- ay, there's the rub, for in that sleep of death what dreams may come, when we have shuffled off this mortal coil, must give us pause; there's the respect that makes calamity of so long life."

_Hamlet_ , Act III, Scene i

He hadn't been able to make himself go home.

He'd tried...once, twice, a dozen times, but...every time he started to take a step that way, her face came back to him...

Her face, his failure.

He knew that he'd never be able to sleep, either-- he'd tried, briefly.

The first dream had been enough to snap him awake.

So, he couldn't go, he couldn't stay...and couldn't make himself, or his thoughts, stand still.

He'd begun to wander.

It was the only way...wandering the halls...the labs, the rooms, everywhere he was authorised to go and probably, in his delirium, a few places he wasn't.

Just walking.

Just _going_.

Because, if he stopped...

If he stopped, it might all catch up with him.

And he was barely keeping ahead as it was.

Dr. Fraiser had taken one look at him and pronounced him dead on his feet. Jack had barely glanced up at him before ordering him home.

Like he could go.

Like he _would_ go.

He couldn't.

He just...went.

It was a strange feeling...wandering like a ghost from room to room...mind dulled by the repetition and sleep deprivation...like floating.

Floating away from the whole mess...losing himself somewhere...

God, but it was a nice dream.

But this...all of this...was a nightmare.

Her face appeared before him at random, interspersed with the random ebb and flow of his unthinking mind...bringing about periods of...desperation...

He wanted to see her again.

To talk to her again.

To try and tell her...all the things he'd meant to say all these years.

To make the most of this second chance...

But he couldn't.

He knew that, now...knew she'd never trust him. Never believe in him.

Never allow him to touch her...to hold her...to be the man he was with her again...

Even if it wasn't quite her...

Except it was, they'd been the same up until the point where she...one of them... had died...she was the same.

She was.

She had to be....

It was only the fact that she'd lived and he'd died that...

But it didn't matter.

She was still a living embodiment to his failure.

And she was dying.

Or may as well have been.

Her body, near as they could tell...or, near as Fraiser would tell him...was suffering from sarcophagus withdrawal. 

And, given how long she'd had to use the thing...it must've been a thousand times harder for her...

And he, the only one with any direct experience with that...would only make things worse.

It was...the most frustrating thing...knowing she was there, knowing that she needed his help, and being the worst possible thing for her to see.

It was like...having lost her all over again. Knowing she was out there, but not knowing how to get there...the old feelings...helplessness...frustration...all starting to come up again....and the anger.

The anger of old.

The hot, burning kind.

Not the cold rage he'd found himself taking on, the ones which made his blood like ice.

The old kind.

The first kind.

The kind he'd had when the wound was new.

It came up at random, just like her face...which his thoughts strayed from the trance he'd fallen into, rousing him from it like a nightmare waking him in his sleep... driving him to the limits of his control, because there was nothing, _nothing_ he could do.

But he still loved her.

And maybe, after the Goa'uld was gone and she was better, and things had all settled down...maybe he could explain it to her...

Maybe...

Maybe it'd be enough...

At least he could hope it was.

Until then...that's about all he could do.

Hope.

And pray.

And try to think as little as possible.

And maybe...just maybe...things would all work out.

Maybe.

**  
**

Maybe not...

Or maybe so.

Or maybe it just didn't matter...

And so, his mind trying to ignore the pain of his heart and turmoil of his soul... Daniel Jackson walked.

And still he went nowhere at all.

*

"Then, venom, to thy work."

_Hamlet_ , Act V, Scene ii

He'd almost made it back where he was before Jack found him.

He'd almost managed to suppress the fire inside...almost managed to bring his manic thoughts back to normal speed. 

Almost managed to convince himself that everything'd be fine.

And then Jack came.

And Jack's eyes were unreadable.

"Daniel..."

And then he said nothing more.

He didn't have to.

There was a problem.

There was always a problem.

After all, God or the Universe or whatever couldn't possibly given him one single, solitary day without a problem. No. That'd be unthinkable.

"There's..." the colonel started, then trailed off with a sigh. "There's been a problem with Sha're."

What a surprise. This was nothing new. He all ready knew there was a problem. There'd been nothing _but_ problems now since Teal'c had--

"It wasn't withdrawal."

And the fire that'd been Daniel Jackson's saviour and nemesis suddenly stopped mid-flame within him.

If it hadn't been withdrawal...

...then something...

...else...

Oh, God...

He'd pushed past the colonel in an instant, his legs carrying him at a speed he'd never before felt as he ran headlong, uncaring of who he ran over, or of what he was seeing, or that Jack was calling his name.

His heart pounding in his ears, he dashed into the deserted isolation room.

And there she was.

Lying, pale and beautiful, on a cold, hard bed.

And she was...

**  
**

No...

No.

Not after everything they'd been through...

She couldn't be...

He took her hand in his and felt its soul-freezing chill.

Just like when...

No...

"She's gone," he heard Jack saying from behind. 

No, she couldn't be...she _couldn't_...

Not again.

Not after he'd been so close to...

"Fraiser thinks it was some kinda poison Apophis put into her, in case she ran..."

Jack was saying more, but he couldn't bring himself to listen.

She was...

It wasn't fair.

It wasn't _fair_!

He'd almost...

So many almosts...

He'd found her first, then Apophis had taken her

He'd found her again and Teal'c had shot her.

And now...Apophis had...

No.

No. This couldn't happen. He had to do _something_...this was his last chance...

"Daniel."

And she was so _still_...

But he wasn't.

Not inside.

The emotions he'd not felt in ages before now were beginning to swirl...the old, hot anger, so newly returned, taking the pain and frustration and bringing it to a searing boil...

It _wasn't fair_!

She couldn't be dead.

"Daniel."

She couldn't!

A hand on his shoulder, trying to pull him away from her, but she _couldn't_... no...

No!

"Daniel--"

_No_!

And something inside him screamed.

And the rage exploded.

And as it consumed all feeling and emotion and mind and thought, he lashed out.

His fist connected directly with Jack's jaw.

He barely felt the pain in his hand at the connection, nor did he feel the next strike against the other's chest, or the next...he didn't feel the blows getting weaker... didn't feel Jack catching him in an embrace as his legs gave way...

And he didn't know when the tears came-- maybe they'd been there all the time.

All he knew was...loss.

And shame.

Another failure.

Another one dead...another love lost....

And it still wasn't fair...

She was gone, and he was here, having a breakdown...

All she'd done was be in the wrong place, with the wrong person...if she'd not met him, if he'd never gone to Abydos, never figured out the Gate...

...if.

If only he'd...

If only he could talk to her again...

But she was...dead.

And he wasn't.

He was falling to pieces, in front of someone who certainly didn't need to see it...

And yet Jack was there.

Despite everything...despite all the hardships done to him, all that he'd suffered, all the things Daniel himself had done to him...he was still there.

Telling him that everything would be all right...supporting him, literally and otherwise. With the kind of strength he envied at times like these...times when he was reminded of just how helpless he was...

He couldn't save her.

Not then, not now...not ever again...

"I'm sorry," was all he could say, to Sha're, and to Jack, and to so many others. "I'm sorry..."

And then, as the emotional onslaught retook him, he could say nothing more.

*

"O, such a deed as from the body of contraction plucks the very soul, and sweet religion makes a rhapsody of words."

_Hamlet_ , Act III, Scene iv

He was back to the beginning.

Jack had stayed with him for a long time in the isolation room, letting him vent everything that needed venting...then, after insisting he not be alone tonight, the colonel had insisted that Daniel stay on his couch.

He hadn't slept, though...couldn't have.

So Jack had stayed with him again.

All night. 

Just...letting him talk.

He must've told Jack every memory of Sha're he possessed, every thought, every feeling, every dream...he'd gone on and on until finally, just before dawn...he'd finally run out of words.

And, as the promise of a new day was revealed, speech had passed into silence.

The first of many days with the pain.

The first...and yet not the first.

But not even close to the last.

The pain wouldn't end.

It might change, it might lessen...it might flare when he thought of her, or felt the way he felt with her.

But it would stay.

And it would remind him.

He was alive.

And he was crying.

Not all at once, not in an overwhelming torrent like before...just gentle, quiet tears that might, someday, allow him to heal.

And perhaps, someday long into the future...he might be able to forgive himself for the crime of being human.

And perhaps it would start today.

Or perhaps not.

But for now...he could only live.

She'd want it that way...want him to be able to survive, be happy, be able to sleep at night...

But, first things first.

To live.

To simply be.

If it wasn't perfect...if it wasn't without pain...then so be it.

And as the sun rose fully in the heavens, Ra's barque pulling him out of the dark underworld after his nightly battle, Daniel Jackson watched.

And but for the sound of his own beating heart...the rest was silence.

**The End**

  


* * *

  


> Author's Notes: This story begins immediately following the episode Forever In a Day, then resumes after Maternal Instinct. This story is lovingly dedicated to one Ray Stilwell, Esquire, who's gift of this Shakespearean volume reminds us that perhaps we should only kill most of the lawyers.

* * *

> © March, 2003 The characters mentioned in this story are the property of Showtime and Gekko Film Corp.  
> The Stargate, SG-I, the Goa'uld and all other characters  
> who have appeared in the series STARGATE SG-1 together with the names,   
> titles and backstory are the sole copyright property of MGM-UA Worldwide Television, Gekko Film Corp, Glassner/Wright Double Secret Productions and Stargate SG-I Prod. Ltd. Partnership. This fanfic is not intended as an infringement upon those rights and solely meant for entertainment. All other characters, the story idea and the story itself are the sole property of the author.   
> 

* * *

  



End file.
